


Dye Another Day

by Edoraslass



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, grey hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoraslass/pseuds/Edoraslass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is going grey and hates it.<br/>Eames doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dye Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot about this one! I first posted it on one of cherrybina's fluff fest posts, anon for reasons I don't recall, so now I shall claim it out loud. And it is indeed the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff.

~*~

Eames strolls into the apartment, throws his keys in the silver bowl on top of the mail, and ambles into the kitchen for a beer, shedding shoes and jacket and tie along the way.

“Arthur,” he calls, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand.

“In here,” comes the reply, and Eames can hear the scowl in Arthur’s voice. Not particularly notable, but as always, he still wonders what’s tweaked Arthur’s mood today.

Arthur’s standing in the bathroom, wearing only raggedy jeans and plastic surgical gloves. “Kinky,” Eames says approvingly, leaning against the doorway as he takes a swig of beer. “Shall I get the handcuffs, then?”

Arthur shoots him a glare and returns to his study of what looks to be a set of instructions. There’s a small bottle filled with something dark and gloppy and a long-handled wide brush sitting on the vanity.

“Are you …why are you dyeing your hair? Are we going on the lam?” Eames asks. “I don’t find dyeing your hair the same colour as your hair to be much of a disguise.”

“Look at this!” Arthur turns so fiercely that Eames feels himself tense for a punch to the face. “Look!”

Dutifully, Eames looks where Arthur’s pointing at his own temple. There’s a swath of grey – almost white, really - as wide as Eames’ thumb, shiny and brilliant against the rest of Arthur’s dark hair, and Eames’ breath leaves him in a rush. “Oh,” he says softly, running two fingers through the grey streak. “Was this…this wasn’t here this morning.”

“Of course it was, grey doesn’t just appear overnight,” Arthur snarls. “And I found twenty more, just lurking, waiting to take over.”

“I’m sure I would have noticed,” Eames says, ignoring Arthur’s huff, continuing to comb his fingers through the offending follicles. How could he have missed this? Oh right, probably distracted by other, more naked things. “And where are these other naughty twenty grey hairs?”

Arthur gives him a strange look, which Eames barely notices. He’s enthralled; he fancies the grey hairs feel different under his fingers – smoother, slightly thicker. He never figured on Arthur going grey before he did, but he supposes it makes sense, the way Arthur worries and drives himself. It’s more than a little appealing.

“You – like it.” It’s almost an accusation.

Eames sets down his beer, and pulls Arthur close against him. “I do,” he breathes, brushing his lips over the grey streak. “It makes you look – “

“Old,” Arthur growls, but he doesn’t fight to get away.

“You’re always complaining how no-one takes you seriously because you look so young,” Eames points out as he presses his mouth to the spot just below Arthur’s ear. “A little grey could be just what you need.”

“It won’t stay ‘a little grey’ for long,” Arthur argues, cranky. “Once it starts creeping in, it’s all over. Next stop, salt-and-pepper or even worse – “

Eames catches his breath at the mental image of salt-and-pepper Arthur, more distinguished and severe than ever. “Even worse what?” he wants to know. “There are many things worse than about aging than your hair changing colours, Arthur.”

He’s working the button of Arthur’s jeans, kissing down his neck, always coming back to the blaze of grey. “I’ve never had a sugar daddy before,” he says, voice muffled against Arthur’s temple.

“And you’re not getting one now,” Arthur shoots back, but there’s a reluctant smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“Leave it,” Eames breathes into Arthur’s ear, and Arthur shivers against him. “For me?”

“I’ll …I’ll think about it,” Arthur agrees grudgingly, wrapping his arms around Eames’ waist.

Eames gives a brilliant smile. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.”

Arthur flushes bright pink. “We’ll see if you still think it’s so hot when you get your first grey hairs,” he murmurs, and brings their mouths together.


End file.
